One More Chance "Throw that gun down, Larry!" Kenton demanded. by Jerry Carlile Dectective Ted Kenton's right hand closed tightly around the steel service revolver. Despite the rain that had soaked and chilled him since he left his car in that clearing half-a-mile back, his palm on the butt was moist with sweat. As he withdrew the gun, he clenched his left hand until the knuckles whitened, then raised it and rapped sharply on the door of the old house trailer. There was a slight rustle inside; then the yellow light that flowed under the crack of the door went out. Kenton stepped quickly away from the trailer and knelt behind a nearby scrub oak. "Damn! Should of pushed the damn door in," he cursed to himself. "Wonder what he's up to now. He's got a door cut out the back, or I miss my guess. Probably out here somewhere right now." Tense moments passed, then a fork of lightning split the darkness of the mountain night; in that dazzling instant Kenton caught sight of a man at the rear corner of the panelwood trailer house a figure who pressed hurriedly against the wall as the lightning died. The detective felt a thrill of impending triumph, the thrill that comes with realization that you are ahead and there is only one minute left in the game. While the thunder echoed against the rocky canyon walls, he took the flashlight from his pocket. There was a stirring sound, directly in front of him now. He pointed the big light toward it and pressed the button. The man caught in its glare jerked about, gun raised and pointed, but he didn't fire. "Throw that gun down, Larry!" Kenton demanded. As he layed the weapon carefully on the single step of the trailer house, the other answered, "Hell, Ted, I knew it was you. Outfoxed me, you did. Always was smarter than me, kid." "Thanks, Larry." Ted Kenton approached him, gun in hand, and snapped handcuffs about the thick wrists proffered by his captive. "Let's go on inside till the rain lets up. I'd like to talk to you awhile." Page Eight Larry, the captive, bent over, picked up the gun on the step, and handed it to Kenton, butt first. "Can't let it rust, Ted. That'd be wasteful, you know." Kenton felt suddenly ridiculous, as he pocketed the weapon and followed his prisoner inside. "There's a lamp on that table and some matches in the cupboard. I'd light it for you, Ted, but well, I'm incapacitated, so to speak." "Sure, I'll get it. Go over there and sit down." He waved his flash at a chair near the bunk, then found the matches and lit the old-fashioned kerosene lamp. "Look, Larry. If you'll give me your word you won't try anything, I'll take those bracelets off. You'll do that, won't you?" The husky man thought before replying. "I don't think so, kid. That'd be more binding than these damn things. They're going to shoot me if you get me back. And, I wouldn't have a chance if I promised not to try to get out of it. See what I mean?" "Okay, Larry. Any way you want it. But just while we're here, couldn't you do that?" The man across the room leaned his chair back against the bunk end. "Nope! The way I figure it, I'll get at least one chance to get away maybe only one and if it comes tonight, I'm warning you, I'll take it." Ted Kenton was annoyed. "All right, make it tough for yourself, but you're not getting away this time. Get that through your head." "Okay, okay! But the most important thing in the world to any guy is his life. I'm not giving mine up on a promise and you know I never break promises." Kenton shrugged his shoulders, indicating there was nothing more to say on that subject. The awkward silence that followed made him reach for a cigarette. The feel of a butt in his fingers always put Kenton at ease again. The husky man across the room watched him light up, a grin spreading across his broad features. When Kenton replaced the pack in his shirt pocket, his prisoner laughed a rich, deep laugh, but not loud. "You learned somethin' back there in Salina, didn't you, Ted? Not gonna give me a chance to pull that one again." Immediately the detective remembered that night in a Salina auto court. The situation paralleled the present one this man his prisoner, handcuffed, sitting on a chair across a one room cabin. He had accommodated Larry by offering to light a cigarette for him. As he was bending over, match in hand, the other had hit him in the head with the handcuffed wrists, then fished the keys from his pocket, handcuffed him to the wash basin drain, and fled. Kenton had picked up the trail of his man fourteen days later in Salt Lake City. A number of other leads had brought him to this lonely spot, to this old house-trailer hidden in a deep canyon four miles west of Midway. Now this killer was again his prisoner. "How about throwin' a 'benny' over then. I'll light my own, kid." The prisoner chuckled to himself as he asked. Kenton felt the infectious spirit of that laugh, and grinned back as he slid the pack and matches across the floor. "Here, Larry. I just didn't think." A glow of friendliness, of companionship, suffused Kenton as he watched his man fumble with the book matches. He had to fight a rising urge to go over and remove those confining irons. "Damn it, Larry! I wish you'd let me take those things off." The prisoner blew the match out with a puff of smoke. As he spoke, the cigarette danced in his lips. "Forget it, kid. I told you once I wasn't going to die without a fight." Frustrated, Kenton sat awhile watching the smoke hanging in the room in front of him, undulating up and down in big waves. Finally he broke the silence. "Larry, I don't care what they say, I can't believe you killed Augie James." His prisoner's lips closed tightly. The friendly grin disappeared and he shifted his gaze to the glowing end of his cigarette. Kenton continued. "Tell me honestly did you do it, Larry?" He stared directly at the man across the room, waiting for an answer. "I killed him, all right." The words were uttered slowly, as if with effort. "But he was going to kill me." "Why should he want to kill you? You never did anything to him." "Listen, kid. I sure hadn't ought to be telling this to anybody. But if you'll promise to forget it completely even under oath I'll tell you the whole rotten story. I feel like maybe you ought to know." Ted Kenton thought only a moment. "All right, Larry, I'll forget it. That's my promise and you know I never break promises, either." "Well, you remember June Tomason married Augie James 'stead of me. She always was the only girl I'd ever of married. I know now she only married him because her folks said I was useless. She really thought she'd be happy when she married him thought that was the wisest choice. Right after they came back from Yellowstone, from their honeymoon, I went over one night just to visit 'em. I had to see her. I figured on Augie being there, but he wasn't. He was workin' a night freight he was a railroader, you 'member. Well, after we'd talked awhile, she broke down and told me she was sorry about the whole deal. When I was going out the door, she grabbed me and kissed me and said she didn't want me to go. "I was all mixed up then. I knew I'd best leave her alone completely. But I didn't. Hell, Ted, I really love June. "Just seemed like I had to go over there. But I kept gettin' in deeper and deeper. All the time, I kept telling myself I'd better get out of town or somethin'. "Well, anyway, Augie found out about it some way I'm not sure how. He warned me a couple of times, but I didn't pay no heed. Then that night, I'd come from seein' June, and I was havin' some beer over at the pool hall when in walks Augie James. He showed me a gun and said he was gonna use it if I didn't stop makin' love to his wife. It made me mad to be threatened like that, especially by him, so I called him some things I shouldn't have. That made him madder, and the more we said the madder we got. Finally I shoved him out of my way and left. A minute later I heard him come run-nin' up the street after me. "He was wavin' that damn gun, and swearing, and he run up and slugged me with it on the shoulder. I knocked him down, then picked him up and threw him down again. I never dreamed it'd kill him, Ted. Honest, I didn't do it deliberately. "But I couldn't make no excuses. The law'd say it was adultery and murder both." Beads of sweat stood out on the big man's forehead as he finished his story, and looked long at Ted Kenton. But Kenton sat silently, pondering. It was his duty now to bring this man to his death his duty to rid the world of that friendly face, that deep, rich laugh, and that genuine love of life and people. After awhile he looked up from the floor, studying the man across the room. "Look, Larry. I've just decided to quit the service. Think I'll go down to 'Frisco or back east somewhere, and set up a Private Eye Office." (Concluded on page 24) Page Nine